


Miles To Go Before I Sleep

by TheFeistyRogue



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Exploration, Gen, Norway (Country), Post-Hogwarts, Snow, wandcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFeistyRogue/pseuds/TheFeistyRogue
Summary: The Muggles thought he was an environmental biologist, although Theo had no idea what that was. Granger had organised for him to stay in a Muggle outpost in the Saltfjellet-Svartisen National Park, just inside the Arctic Circle, when he’d taken Ollivander’s request to her.





	Miles To Go Before I Sleep

 Theo flicked his wand in an angry circle, the heat of a Warming Charm suffusing through his body. His fingers began to tingle as they regained sensation and his nose burned at the warring sensation of hot and cold.

Damn the dratted Arctic Willow trees that could only be found in the arse end of nowhere. Norway was colder in March than even Hogwarts was in the height of winter. He’d never seen such snow—it covered everything like icing on a cake, only without the sweetness of sugar and more unpleasant to touch. When the sun was shining, the snow glittered like a thousand diamonds ground to dust; even the air shimmered.  

At this time of year and this far north, however, the sun only shone in a half-light between the hours of ten and four. While usually Theo would spend all day looking for the trees and plants and creatures that Ollivander had sent him out to collect, up here he only had a limited amount of time before the sun set and the world became a frigid wasteland, silver in the moonlight. The temperature would drop even further and Theo would freeze to death if he got lost, so instead he retreated back to the hut in which he was staying and warmed himself by the fire.

The Muggles thought he was an environmental biologist, although Theo had no idea what that was. Granger had organised for him to stay in a Muggle outpost in the Saltfjellet-Svartisen National Park, just inside the Arctic Circle, when he’d taken Ollivander’s request to her.

Sometimes, he rued the day that he’d applied to learn the fine art of wandcraft.

Arctic Willow was a diminutive plant that wandmakers very rarely worked with. Ollivander didn’t normally keep it in stock, hence Theo’s expedition. Two weeks ago, however, Ollivander had been gifted the tail hair of one of the unicorns who roamed the Amazon rainforest. The old man wouldn’t settle for anything less than Arctic Willow to set it in, claiming that he needed something that would counter the unicorn’s fiery nature.

Theo huffed, watching his breath mist on the air before him. He clapped his hands together and tucked his wand away. A glance toward the horizon told him that he had a few hours left before darkness claimed the land. He’d have to start heading back in an hour or so, empty handed once again if he didn’t find his prize.

This time, however, he had an ace up his sleeve. Or rather, he had a bowtruckle in a pouch.

Loony Lovegood—Luna Scamander, now—had arrived by International Portkey that morning, bearing the most welcome of gifts. Theo often worked with bowtruckles, tempting them with woodlice or fairy eggs in order to persuade them into letting him steal a branch or two of wand woods. However, it was too cold in the Arctic Circle for bowtruckles to survive, so he couldn’t look for the usual signs that the plants he was inspecting were suitable for wands. Sadly, that meant every time he returned to the Muggle outpost with a new cutting of willow, he then spent the rest of the evening casting spells to determine if it was viable. So far, he’d had no luck.

“I know it’s cold,” Theo said, undoing his outer layer. “But I’ll keep you warm, I promise. Pickett, Luna said your name was? Come out, will you? I’ve got a plant I’d like you to look at.”

Theo cupped the pouch he’d strapped to his chest and unfolded the flap holding it closed. The Warming Charm would last for a few minutes, fending off the cold enough that Pickett would be able to surface without perishing.

Pickett chirruped and extended a cautious limb. The rest of him followed and he peered at the plant Theo was kneeling before.

“Arctic Willow, a few years old. The first I’ve found today,” Theo said. “Looks healthy. Is it viable?”

He held the bowtruckle closer, shielding him from the wind with cupped hands.

Arctic Willow was a curious tree, barely reaching his knee and growing in the lee of boulders large enough to shelter the plant from icy wind and the weight of the snow. It’s stem was dark green and thick with wispy spines that looked like fur. It’s leaves curled toward the sky and the shape of them had earned it the nickname of the “tongue plant” by the Inuit people. It flowered like a long and thin dandelion in a beautiful vibrant pink—the sort of colour Pansy loved to wear when she was in the mood to scandalise her parents.

Pickett reached out and stroked the plant’s stem. He paused, fingers curling toward the flower, and Theo tried not to allow himself to become hopeful. Then the bowtruckle recoiled, making an unhappy squeaking noise as it burrowed back into the pouch Theo was transporting it in.

“On to the next one, then, I suppose,” Theo muttered. At least it made the process faster. He groaned as he got to his feet, still glad for the reprieve from the cold that the Warming Charm allowed. He tucked the pouch away and redid the several layers that kept both him and the bowtruckle warm. A flutter of wings caught his attention as he finished and he glanced up, surprised to come face to face with a snow bunting. The bird was small, fat, and fluffy, coloured in shades of grey that allowed it to camouflage itself against the boulder it had perched on.

_Cheep. Cheep._

The bird tilted its head to one side. Theo snorted and fished a dried woodlouse from his pocket, tossing it in the air. The bird dived forward and snatched the woodlouse up, before darting into the sky. Theo grinned and glanced around, deciding where to head next.

A blanket of snow covered the world as far as he could see. In the distance, trees stripped bare of their leaves swayed like skeletons in the wind, and further, mountains loomed, jagged knives slicing up the clouds. The sky was beginning to turn pink and it was easy to get lost in the majesty of the landscape.

Theo blinked and shook his head. He flexed his hands, warming fingers that were beginning to feel the cold once more, and marched on. There was a large mound of snow a few kilometres north that could be hiding the very plant that he was looking for. Hopefully, this time, it would be the sort of wood suited to wands.

There was a soft wriggle of movement against his chest: Pickett making itself comfortable. Theo had never met such a self-aware bowtruckle in his life, but he was grateful that Luna had brought him, claiming that Pickett had fancied the adventure. She’d then gone on to ramble about how Pickett had been Newt Scamander’s companion once and helped him escape from Grindelwald back before the first wizarding war. That girl was as mad as a hatter, but she’d helped him out a few times before with various magical creatures, so he couldn’t complain. Theo loved the creation of wands, but he wasn’t as fond of collecting the elements that created them.

Ollivander had never really explained how he’d known Luna, but Theo was aware that it had something to do with the year he’d spent in the cells of Malfoy Manor. Theo shivered in a way that was unrelated to the cold and pushed those thoughts from his mind. Instead, he squinted at the dying sunlight and quickened his pace.

He’d try the lee of one more rock, and if he found an Arctic Willow there, he’d ask Pickett if the wood was any good. Perhaps it would be, perhaps not. If it wasn’t, he’d try again tomorrow.

The wind was cold and the sun was setting, but the world, muffled by snow and untouched by anything but the imprint of his footsteps, was beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> The Arctic Circle is defined as the area above the treeline, further north than trees can grow. However, I’m taking artistic liberty to add in a few barren trees, because it was a good line.
> 
> Arctic Willow is actually a plant, however it only grows between 2-9cm and only in the summer. I’m taking a little more artistic liberty to make it into something that Ollivander would be searching for, i.e. a plant that grows tall enough to make a wand from it and in the height of winter/spring.
> 
> Details can be found here: https://beyondpenguins.ehe.osu.edu/issue/polar-plants/plants-of-the-arctic-and-antarctic
> 
> Snow Buntings are adorable birds. They’re so fluffy!
> 
> Details and a picture can be found here: https://www.wildlifetrusts.org/wildlife-explorer/birds/finches-and-buntings/snow-bunting


End file.
